Some Nights
by Tiva4evaxxx
Summary: Episode tag to The Red Barn. Jisbon. They have a conversation that I feel they keep avoiding on the show. "'Why do we never talk about it' She said suddenly, her brain screaming at her for bringing this up, the unspoken subject, the conversation they avoided at all costs. 'Talk about what' he asked, feigning ignorance. 'Talk about the fact he might target me,' she whispered


**Wow it's been a while. Was inspired by the latest episode, like a lot of people have been i'm sure. Thought i'd have a go at writing because i haven't for what feels like forever, and this is the product. I honestly have no idea if it's any good, but i hope you guys like it. Also i PROMISE i will update Young Blood at some point - i'm just in year 13 and doing my A levels and trying to get the grades for uni and all sorts. So i'm sorry! Just know i haven't given up on it. **

**Disclaimer: Still not mine **

**Some Nights**

She was home, finally. The day had seemed endless, she was confused, tired and extremely irritable. Or had been, until Jane had uttered the words 'Come in partner' that had suddenly made her day a lot better. Sheer relief had flooded her; she'd been so scared that he was going to shut her out again.

She fumbled with her keys outside her apartment, a brief moment of terror as she recalled the conversation she'd been having less than half an hour ago, but she shook the feeling off. Red John was not outside her apartment. Despite being a homicide detective she still had those moments when it was dark outside and she was tired and that fear struck her so hard she felt winded. She wasn't an idiot, she knew that it was a possibility that he would target her. Jane knew too. But it was the taboo subject, the one neither of them brought up. Even though less than six months ago the serial killer had asked for her dead body as proof of Patrick Jane's change of alliance. Briefly she wondered why they didn't talk about it, but decided she wouldn't go there. She was too tired tonight.

Hands shaking slightly, she managed to get into her apartment, names still flashing through her mind, some far more disturbing than others. The one currently at the forefront of her mind being Walter Mashburn. She'd almost thrown up when he'd mentioned his name. It terrified her actually, because it made a little sense, though most of them did. She'd tried to remain impassive but she'd noticed his concerned glance, and he wouldn't be Jane if he hadn't picked up her reaction. She sighed heavily once inside and the sound filled the apartment, a reminder of just how empty it was.

By the time she was in bed, she wasn't actually tired anymore. All she could think of was that she'd left him in that attic, surrounded by death and theories and no concrete evidence and the weight of the world on his shoulders as always. He would be sat, writing intensely or staring down the board, just waiting for the answer to jump out at him – and they had a way to go yet. Once he'd done that for a while he'd try to sleep there, head full of dark images that no one should have memorised the way he does, and she hated the thought of it. Of him alone there. It made her heart ache in ways she wasn't ready to admit.

She tossed and turned for what felt like forever, a little scared to fall asleep but with a head full of worry for the future, for her team, worry for him. The last time she remembered looking at the clock it had read 2:37 am.

She awoke to some noise, unusual in her normally deadly quiet apartment. A little groggy she froze, and had the slightly irrational reaction of intensifying her grip on the duvet cover. She came round enough to realise what was happening, she heard the usual creak of the last but one stair and trying to be quiet she reached for her gun, groping around in the dark, terror filling her with every second that she became more aware of her surroundings. Panic filled her, the steps were coming towards her bedroom and she wasn't going to get her gun in time. The very second that thought passed through her mind, her bedroom door creaked open slowly, and a familiar voice whispered 'Lisbon?'

For the second time that day, though it technically wasn't the same day anymore, she was filled with relief, and a little bit of anger. 'Jane?!'

'You're awake?'

'Clearly,' she said, her voice irritated, she reached for the light at her bedside and switched it on. 'What the hell are you doing here, I would've shot you if I'd got my gun in time.'

'Sorry, I thought you'd be asleep,' Jane replied sheepishly.

'Yeah because the fact you'd be spying on me in my sleep is so very reassuring.'

He stepped forward, and immediately she felt guilty. He looked like crap, and almost certainly had less sleep than she'd had, which said a lot really. She did a once over, his hair was tousled, so clearly he'd been trying to sleep, his eyes were a little red, and his expression a little more melancholy than usual. She softened immediately, 'How did you even get in?'

She'd thought he might brighten up to tease her about how obvious her spare key was, but the question actually had the opposite effect 'I think you know the answer to that one – you really shouldn't keep a key there, you should be more careful – have you thought about getting the locks changed? Really they'd be quite easily picked... You should probably update your security system really -'

'Jane, is everything okay?' She intercepted his ramblings, something didn't seem quite right.

He paused, 'I just wanted to make sure you were alright.' Like it was that simple.

'By breaking into my house at 4 am?' She asked suspiciously.

'Well you're alright, so I suppose I can leave now,' he smiled half heartedly, turning to go.

'Wait,' she said quickly, throwing the covers off and to get up and grab his arm to prevent him leaving, though he didn't take much persuading. 'Something's wrong,' she said unhappily, 'You can tell me you know.'

'Bad dream' he said evasively, and there was a dark flash behind his eyes, and his hand on her arm didn't go unnoticed, his subtle way of making sure she was still there.

'Why do we never talk about it?' She said suddenly, her brain screaming at her for bringing this up, the unspoken subject, the conversation they avoided at all costs.

'Talk about what?' he asked, feigning ignorance.

'Talk about the fact he might target me,' she whispered, letting the full force of fear hit her. 'That's what your dream was about, wasn't it?' She was sure she would regret this in the morning. Day time Lisbon would never be having this conversation, she was strong and fearless – or at least she was supposed to be, especially in front of her colleagues.

'Yes,' he said softly, it wasn't the first time he'd dreamed about it and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. Teresa Lisbon, body violated and mutilated, lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, in some godforsaken place where he'd been unable to get to her in time. Him watching, restrained as Red John cut her open slowly, tears streaming down his face at her screams, powerless, frozen, unable to help or save her, simply made to watch. Red faces painted everywhere, walls crimson with the blood of the last person on earth he truly, deeply cared for.

But she was alive in front of him, her hair a little messier than he usually had the pleasure of seeing, her eyes wide and unguarded, her tiny figure so seemingly delicate in her pyjamas that looking at her you'd never guess she had the strength to tackle men practically twice her size to the ground. But it wasn't enough to just see her. Her voice took him back to the moment, a fearful twinge to it 'What happened?'

He tucked a little bit of hair behind her ear, taking every opportunity to touch her that he could, and said quietly 'You don't want to know and I don't want to think about it, because it isn't going to happen.'

That was enough for her, she didn't need the gruesome details. She had enough of her own dreams stashed away in her memory, Jane at the hands of Red John, Jane unable to save himself, in more ways than one. Who was she to ask him to part with some of his deepest fears when she had so many of her own.

Still she repeated her question, 'Why don't we talk about it?'

'I can't.' He looked at her in the eye, and she knew he was being honest. 'I won't let him get to you, Teresa.'

'But we've never talked about what would happen if..'

He cut her off there, 'There is no what ifs here, Lisbon, it's not going to happen. Even if I have to break into your apartment every night to check on your for my own piece of mind.'

'You know you could just ask for your own key,' she said, before realising the implications of her reply. 'Not that I meant, I mean' she blushed slightly.

'Oh the implications were quite clear,' he smiled a little, and his teasing put her back into more comfortable territory, something she was grateful for.

'Really though, you have to promise that you'll be okay,' her voice suddenly full of emotion again, 'that you wouldn't do anything stupid,' tears pricked her eyes at the thought, the endless possibilities. After all, she didn't know what she'd do if it were him that was gone.

'Don't,' he said, his voice dangerously dark, 'don't ever talk like that,' she could hear the fear and a little anger in his voice.

'We never talk about it.' She said simply, tears threatening to spill over at any point. 'It feels like the closer we get to him the more of a threat this is, don't think I don't see you, watching me a little closer, monitoring things more, after everything Lorelai said in the summer, after having to fake mine and Rigsby's death.. this isn't just going to go away,' she could hear the hysteria in her voice and hated that she was losing control. She paused for a second, a few tears slid down her cheeks and to her surprise; she let him wipe them away. 'It's not going to go away, and until we find evidence that it's someone on that list...' she sighed, 'We just never talk about it.'

He looked at her, and for the first time in a while saw the real deep rooted fear in her eyes. It almost physically hurt him to know that most of that fear was for him, for her team, before it was for her own well being. After a long pause he replied softly, 'I can't talk about it' he said, struggling to keep a hold on his emotions, 'I couldn't survive losing you.'

She looked up at him and was shocked by the raw emotion that stared back at her. She stared at him for a long time, unable to believe that they were having this conversation right now, in the early hours of the morning, in her bedroom. All because he'd been so tormented by a nightmare that he'd had to come check on her in the flesh.

She could understand that kind of fear.

Slowly she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him close, knowing they both needed the physical contact. 'I'm not going anywhere.' She whispered, her breath tickling his neck.

He exhaled, as if it was only now that he could feel complete relief, let the worry drain his body totally even if it was just for a few minutes. He breathed her in as she buried her face in his shoulder, and tightened his grip on her. He knew with an ache that this was exactly the sort of thing that would make her more of a target. But he loved her too much too leave. Unless she was in his sight, in his arms, he often became so scared he was paralysed, unable to function, horrific images flickering through his mind at any given time of the day.

He didn't ever want to associate her with those awful red smiles, but part of him already did, and Red John knew that.

'Stay,' she mumbled into her shoulder, as if he would consider leaving now.

'I'm not going anywhere either,' he told her, as they broke apart.

'I can't lose you either you know,' she confessed softly.

He leant down to gently capture her lips in a soft kiss, his hand reached for her neck as it deepened, there was no point denying themselves this any longer, they broke apart just briefly enough for him to whisper, 'I know.'

**Hope you liked it. Reviews would be lovely :) would be nice to be reminded what motivation feels like :P **

**Thanks for reading :) **

**Emily **


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